


Of Books and Bobbles

by per_mare_ad_astra



Series: Shipmas 2017 [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Harry Potter and the Cursed Child - Thorne & Rowling
Genre: 12 days of shipmas, Adorkable Boys Are Adorkable, Christmas Presents, Fluff, Friendship, first year
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-02
Updated: 2017-12-02
Packaged: 2019-02-09 16:13:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,747
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12891699
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/per_mare_ad_astra/pseuds/per_mare_ad_astra
Summary: “Al-bus.”“Give me a moment, will you?” Rolling his eyes but not quite managing to stop smiling, Albus unwrapped the package, careful not to tear the paper. His heart was beating a little too fast. This was much more exciting than seeing his pile of presents underneath the Christmas tree. It was his first gift from his first real friend.





	Of Books and Bobbles

**Author's Note:**

> A fic for littlerose13writes's 12 Days of Shipmas! The prompt for day 1 is "Christmas gifts"

One thing that wizards and Muggles had in common was the reluctance to let go of Christmas.

It was time to put away stockings and baubles, to thank Merlin all radio programmes would move on and start playing decent music again, and yet the decorations lingered even if the festive cheer didn’t. Albus caught sight of a massive tree that rivalled even those of the Great Hall as the Potters sped through King’s Cross, and he almost tripped over a bunch of decorative presents that littered the floor of the station. When they set foot in Platform Nine and Three-Quarters and he finally opened his eyes – he’d closed them on instinct as he’d sprinted through the barrier, on his own this time – his gaze immediately fell on the wreaths and garlands that brightened up the dull brick walls.

He didn’t pay much attention to them, though. He was too busy scanning the platform for his best friend, but he caught no glimpse of platinum hair. It was still early, Albus reminded himself. Barely half-past ten. Scorpius would be there soon.

The minutes ticked by at an agonising pace. Albus fidgeted and played with the too-long sleeves of his hoodie, which he’d inherited from James – it was a shade of red that he didn’t particularly like, but he didn’t get much of a choice where his clothes were concerned. People, most of them strangers, greeted the Potter-Weasleys and had no qualms about goggling at their children. Feeling nervous under all the stares, Albus shoved his hands into his pockets as he stood a few feet away from his large, boisterous family. His father was laughing at something James had said, and his mother was having a heated discussion with Ron and George. Teddy and Victoire were probably snogging in some dark corner, Dominique had already joined her group of friends and was exchanging some late Christmas gifts, Rose hadn’t even looked at him since she’d arrived, and Hugo was busy reading a book that probably weighed twice as much as he did.

Albus was the only one who felt out of place. With growing discomfort, he let his gaze wander along the platform, avoiding the avid stares of some onlookers and the sneering faces of Karl Jenkins and his posse.

And then the Malfoys arrived.

They were impossible to miss. Or rather, it was impossible to miss the platinum-haired boy who shot through the barrier with the force of a cannonball.

Scorpius hadn't changed a bit. Albus hadn’t really expected him to, but it was still a relief to note that this was the same boy he’d said goodbye to a few weeks ago, the same boy who’d continuously managed to make him smile with his ridiculously long letters during the holidays. Scorpius was standing on the tips of his toes now, chatting to his parents while trying to make out anything through the copious steam the Hogwarts Express had flooded the platform with. It didn’t take him long to spot the dozen redheads that made up the Weasley clan, and where there were Weasleys, there were Potters.

Albus had been fretting about what he’d do or say, but his worries vanished as soon as those familiar grey eyes met his. The change was instantaneous, like the sun breaking through a cloudy sky. Albus’s tension melted away, he felt his entire body relax, and his lips pulled up into a smile that Scorpius didn’t hesitate to return.

They were content to grin at each other for a few moments, and then Scorpius lifted his hand and waved enthusiastically. Albus stared at him, then laughed and waved back. He made a face that Scorpius clearly had no trouble understanding, because he giggled, shrugged, and pulled a face in return. They didn’t really need words, since they’d perfected this form of silent conversation during their lessons.

But of course, Scorpius wasn’t the only one who’d noticed him. 

Without meaning to, Albus’s eyes flickered to the right, and he was shocked to find Draco Malfoy watching him intently; however, there was no unkindness or judgement in the way he looked at his old enemy’s son, merely mild curiosity, as well as bewilderment at the boys’s peculiar method of communication. He didn’t look half as scary as Albus thought he would be. A little stern, perhaps, but certainly not evil. After acknowledging Albus with a curt nod, he turned to his wife, and his features softened even further as he leaned down so she could say something to him.

Albus couldn’t help but be curious. So this was Astoria, Scorpius’s mother. He’d heard a lot about her, naturally, but she was nothing like the frail, delicate woman he’d expected her to be. With her dark hair, lovely features and tasteful plum-coloured robes, she looked very regal, but there was a certain warmth about her that Albus instantly liked. When she caught his eye and smiled, he returned the gesture and waved, feeling like a complete idiot. She didn’t seem to mind, though; now positively beaming, she waved back, then turned to say something to Scorpius just as a shrill whistle sounded.

Without warning, Albus found himself engulfed in hug after hug as he was passed from family member to family member like some kind of Quaffle. He lingered in his mother’s arms the longest, partly because she was the one he’d miss the most, and partly because he wanted to delay that last conversation with his father.

Thankfully, it was over quickly. After a brief hug, Harry reached out and ruffled his hair. “Have a good term, Al. And don’t forget to write, yeah? Your mother and I worry.”

Albus nodded, not quite meeting his eyes. “Okay, Dad.”

And then he was leaving, dragging his trunk behind him, getting on the closest carriage, waving at his parents one last time before looking around him and–

Someone grabbed him by the sleeve and yanked him forward. “Hurry up, hurry up, we can get a compartment all to ourselves if we’re quick!”

“And a happy New Year to you too, Scorpius,” Albus said, amused, letting himself be dragged along.

Scorpius waved a hand dismissively, almost hitting him on the nose. “We’re not allowed to be Christmassy until we find a place to sit. We’re doing this _properly_.”

Albus laughed. “Whatever you say.”

They were lucky enough to find an empty compartment on the far end of the train. They were already moving, leaving Platform Nine and Three-Quarters and London behind. The weather had been horrible all morning, and thick flurries of snowflakes made it difficult for Albus to enjoy the view as he waited for Scorpius to hoist his trunk onto an overhead rack. When he finally succeeded, he plopped down onto the seat in front of Albus and grinned at him.

“Hi,” he said breathlessly.

"Ah, we’re allowed to talk now?" Albus said dryly.

“Christmas hasn’t made you any less grouchy, has it?”

“Nope.”

“You really haven’t changed a bit,” Scorpius said happily, as if this was fantastic news. “How was your Christmas? I know we’ve been talking, but still, I want details. Only if you’re okay with telling me, though. Was it really awful? You sounded a bit gloomy in your letters.”

“It’s – It’s been okay, I suppose,” Albus said carefully. “'Bit awkward. Y’know, only Slytherin in a family of Gryffindors.” ‘Awkward’ was the understatement of the century. “James hasn’t shut up about it, and Mum keeps asking about flying lessons and stuff, and Dad is… complicated.” He fiddled with his sleeves. “So it could’ve been better.”

“Well,” said Scorpius, who was practically bouncing with anticipation. “Maybe a late Christmas present will make you feel better?”

And he thrust a bright silver package at him, beaming. He’d clearly been dying to do this for Merlin knew how long.

Albus snorted. “You couldn’t wait a second longer, could you?”

“Not a single one. Come on, open it!” Scorpius urged him. He was actually bouncing now.

Albus weighed the present in his hands. It was very light and neatly wrapped, with a tag in which familiar, elegant handwriting spelled out _‘To Albus, from Scorpius’_.

“Al-bus.”

“Give me a moment, will you?” Rolling his eyes but not quite managing to stop smiling, he unwrapped the present, careful not to tear the paper. His heart was beating a little too fast. This was much more exciting than seeing his pile of presents underneath the Christmas tree. It was his first gift from his first real friend.

To his surprise, it turned out that there wasn’t just one item inside, but three. Albus pulled out the topmost one: a long, soft strip of fabric whose shade of pearl grey was similar to that of the sky outside.

“Do you like it?” Scorpius said eagerly. “I remembered what you said about your normal scarf being too scratchy, so I thought you’d like a new one. It’s really soft, isn’t it? I helped Mum pick out the wool. Is the colour okay? I thought you’d prefer something that matches–”

Albus stared at him. “You _made_ this?”

Scorpius went pink. “Well, Mum did most of the work,” he said modestly. “She’s taken up knitting now and she’s really good at it, but I helped out a bit.”

“You made me a scarf?” he repeated, stunned. They could have just bought one, rich as they were. How much time had they spent on this?

“Not just a scarf,” Scorpius corrected, grinning.

So Albus pulled out the next item, which turned out to be an emerald green bobble hat. Not surprising. If Scorpius had remembered the scarf thing, then of course he hadn’t forgotten Albus’s fondness for hats. It was as exquisitely made as the scarf, and he immediately put it on. “How do I look?” he said, trying to catch a glimpse of his reflection in the window.

“You’re never going to take that off, are you?” said Scorpius, leaning forward so he could poke the bobble.

“Not if I can help it,” Albus said cheerfully. “So you made this too?”

Scorpius shook his head. “This was all Mum. She tried to teach me how to make a bobble, but it’s a lot more complicated than it looks.”

“Scorpius Hyperion Malfoy isn’t good at everything? _Shocking_.”

Scorpius stuck out his tongue at him.

Chortling, Albus pulled out the third and last item. It was considerably larger than the other two and the same shade of green as the hat. A jumper. But it wasn’t like the ones Gran made; the wool was much finer, though it appeared to be just as warm. Looking closely, Albus noticed a variety of tiny details, such as pearl grey stars and a neatly sewn ‘A’ on the front.

“That’s my handiwork,” Scorpius said proudly. He was watching Albus eagerly. “Do you like it? It should be your size, but we can always fix it if we have to. You said that your brother’s clothes are always a bit too big, so I thought you might like something that fits you properly.”

He was, as always, absolutely right. Albus didn’t have many clothes that were completely his own, since he’d inherited everything that James no longer used. He hadn’t minded the hand-me-downs at first, back when he’d wanted to be just like his big brother, but now… Well, it would be nice to have something that was only meant for him.

To his utter embarrassment, he felt a lump form in his throat. Scorpius had noticed every little thing about him, every insignificant detail, and given him a present that Albus hadn’t even known he wanted. The fact that they were clothes wasn’t the important thing; what mattered was that Scorpius had done all of this just for him, had clearly thought long and hard about what Albus liked and needed. In a family as big as his, something so simple was often overlooked.

“Thank you, Scorpius,” he said quietly, holding the jumper and the scarf closer to him. He desperately sought for words that would fully express just how grateful he was, but found none. Perhaps there simply weren’t any. “Thank you so much.”

“So you like them, then?” Scorpius looked pleased, but also slightly bashful. “I know it’s not a very glamorous present…”

“It’s perfect,” Albus said hurriedly. “Best thing I’ve been given all Christmas.”

“Really?”

“Really.” Albus folded the two items and placed them on the empty seat next to him. He coughed. “I – um – I have something for you too. A present. But it’s rubbish compared to yours,” he added gloomily.

Scorpius raised his eyebrows. “No, it’s not.”

“You don’t even know what it is,” Albus shot back.

“I know it’s yours, so I know I’ll love it,” Scorpius said simply, as if this was the most obvious thing in the world.

Feeling red-hot embarrassment creep up his neck, Albus took the heavy rectangular package out his robe pocket and presented it to Scorpius. His grey eyes brightened instantly, for the package’s contents were no mystery, and he carefully unwrapped his gift. The wrapping paper, which had been purchased by Ginny, was a cheerful shade of yellow decorated with Nifflers wearing Santa hats. Scorpius beamed at it, but his smile faltered when he saw the actual present.

All of that hot embarrassment vanished, leaving an awful, cold dismay in its place. Had he messed up? He had, hadn’t he? Of course he had – he was Albus Potter. Merlin, he felt like a right idiot. “What’s–”

“Albus,” Scorpius said slowly, “where did you get this?”

“Isn’t it the book you wanted? _An Ancient History of Magic: Forgotten Spells of Pre-medieval Britain_?” Albus tried to keep the panic out of his tone. Scorpius had only mentioned it a couple of times, but he was sure he’d memorised the title correctly.

“ _Of course_ it’s the book I – but – Albus, they don’t sell this _anywhere_ ,” Scorpius said in a strangled sort of voice. “It’s been discontinued for ages, even Dad hasn’t been able to – where did you find it?”

Albus pulled his new hat off and fiddled with the bobble. “I asked Aunt Hermione if she had it, and she… well, she just gave me her own copy.” Scorpius’s eyes were as wide as saucers, and Albus felt his cheeks go scarlet. “Is that okay? I know it’s got scribbles all over it – she likes annotating things. I can find a way to get you a new copy if you–”

“Albus, _shush_.”

“What?”

“You’re ruining it,” Scorpius said. He was holding the heavy tome with the tenderness one usually reserved for their first-born child and flipping through the pages reverently. “You’ve given me a book… a book I’ve wanted for ages… a book owned and annotated by _Hermione Jean Granger_ …”

“So you like it?” Albus said anxiously.

Scorpius rolled his eyes. “No, Albus, I hate it with every bit of my geeky, history-loving heart. How dare you give me a unique copy of a rare book? It’s like you don’t know me at all.”

“So you _do_ like it,” Albus pressed.

Scorpius’s gaze softened. “Albus, I _love_ it,” he said, hugging the book to his chest. “Are you sure your Aunt Hermione doesn’t mind…?”

Albus shrugged. “She says it’s all yours. I think she’s glad she’s not the only person in the world who wants to read it willingly.”

Scorpius opened his mouth to reply, but was interrupted by the sound of the compartment door sliding open. The trolley witch peered at them over her thick glasses, smiling pleasantly. There was something about her that creeped Albus out, though he wasn’t sure what or why.

“Anything from the trolley, dears?”

The boys looked at each other.

“I’ve brought Chocolate Frogs,” said Scorpius.

“I got you some Pepper Imps,” Albus said at the same time.

So the trolley witch left and they were on their own once again. They admired their presents in contented silence for a few minutes. For the first time in Albus’s life, giving a present had felt just as amazing as receiving one, if not more. He stroked the soft wool of his new jumper, smiling to himself.

“Hey, Scorpius?”

“Hmm?” His friend was already lost in his world of words.

“Merry late Christmas.”

Scorpius looked up and gave him a sweet smile. Once again, Albus was glad he’d stayed with him on their first train ride to Hogwarts. Where would he be without Scorpius as his best friend? 

“Merry late Christmas, Albus.”

**Author's Note:**

> Reviews and kudos are, as always, very much appreciated <3
> 
> For some actual romantic Scorbus, tune in on December 4th for the next prompt, "Christmas tree decorating"!


End file.
